The Buried World (The Grave Kingdom)

by Jeff Wheeler

  “Rowen,” Bingmei said. “Go to the courtyard. Tell them we are coming and that I will be choosing a few members of the ensign to go with us on this journey.”

  “Who will you choose?” he asked.

  “You will find out with the others. Now go and prepare them.”

  “Very well,” he said. He went back to the door and twisted the handle. As soon as he opened it, a new smell wafted into the room.

  Bingmei stiffened.

  That smell of confidence and determination belonged to Liekou, the man who had hunted her through the mountains.

  And he was coming toward them down the corridor.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Fate’s Vengeance

  “Shut the door!” Bingmei cried out.

  “What? Why?” asked Rowen.

  “Liekou. Now, shut it!”

  She heard the door close and then the latch being jiggled. She smelled growing panic. “How can I lock it?” Rowen said in a panic.

  “I’ll help you,” Cuifen said. She started across the room and then stumbled into something and fell.

  The door latch rattled again, and then there was the grunting of two men working against each other. Rowen tried to hold the door closed, but Liekou was just as determined to enter.

  How had he found the room in this awful darkness?

  Cuifen gasped as she struggled to rise again, her smell sharp and fearful. The door crashed open, and Bingmei heard Rowen’s body slam into the wall. Liekou had entered the room, his smell clawing at her nose.

  Bingmei gripped the rune staff and took small steps toward him. “Princess, get back!” she ordered. She sent the end of the staff straight out, trying to catch Liekou’s body without hitting the princess. She missed and pulled the staff back.

  Rowen tried to join the fight—she could hear him shuffling forward, smell his determination—but the sound of fist striking skin and bone could be heard. Liekou’s victorious smell told her Rowen was the injured party. Bingmei took another step forward and banged into a piece of furniture blocking her way. The edge of the wood bit into her thigh. She managed to catch herself and went around the small table.

  She swung the staff and felt it connect, but it was Cuifen who cried out in surprise and pain. Bingmei cursed herself for the blindness. She smelled Liekou approaching her from the other direction and reversed the staff. She struck him solidly, feeling the wood crash into him.

  The next moment, a foot kicked her in the stomach. She fell backward, toppling into the table, which fell with her. The rune staff was yanked out of her hand. Bingmei rolled to one side and heard the staff collide with the table as Liekou struck at her with her own weapon. She rolled again and then flipped onto her feet.

  The total absence of light made this fight very uneven. Because it was increasingly obvious that Liekou could see. He wasn’t stumbling in the dark. His smell came closer as he rushed her, and she jumped forward in a flying kick, trying to strike him. She missed. He reached for her, touching her through the silk jacket she wore.

  If he touched her long enough to draw a sigil on her, the fight would be over before it had truly begun.

  She blocked his hand and spun around, kicking out to push him back. But her blow landed nowhere. She turned and ran, but only made it a few steps before she collided with a couch and knocked it over.

  She felt his fingers touch the back of her silk jacket. Clenching her hand into a fist, she tried to hammer-strike him in the neck, but his fingers were already tracing a symbol against her back.

  No!

  Immediately her muscles seized up, although the instant paralysis did not affect her mind. She felt everything inside her shrivel, as if her muscles had been starved for weeks. She had no choice but to stand there, helpless, while he traced another symbol on her ribs.

  Her legs crumpled. She felt as weak as a tadpole. Before she hit the ground, Liekou grabbed her around the waist and hauled her up onto his shoulder. She tried to speak, to shout for help, but her mouth was just as paralyzed as her limbs. She couldn’t utter a sound.

  “Bingmei! Bingmei!” Cuifen cried out. “What’s happening? Where are you?”

  Rowen’s groans of pain rang with desperation. He was struggling to get up. To help. She could smell his agony, his despair, his dread. She longed to reach out to him, but she was limp against Liekou’s shoulder. He held her legs to balance her weight as he walked out of the princess’s chambers and into the corridor.

  Where was Jiaohua? She needed someone cunning like him, someone who could sense trouble and be counted upon to act. Please, Jiaohua, find us!

  Liekou walked at a determined pace. She could hear and smell the frightened servants who came down the hall. Were they responding to the ruckus from the room?

  “Princess? Princess? Are you all right?”

  Bingmei felt her innards tie into knots. The weakness she felt was worse than a fever sickness.

  Liekou slipped along the edge of the corridor wall, bypassing the servants rushing the other way.

  Desperate to escape him—to escape Echion—Bingmei tried to invoke the magic of flight. She bent all her will into it, but nothing happened. Just as before, she couldn’t coax the magic, and even though she was in terrible danger, it forsook her.

  Someone help me! she thought with desolation.

  But there was no one to hear her silent cry.

  Before long, they were in the streets of Sihui. She felt no outside breeze, but she could smell the people, hear their whimpers and cries. She could even understand one family, who must have been refugees from Sajinau.

  “I’ve tried lighting a fire, but it won’t burn!” a woman shouted in a panic. “There is no light!”

  “It’s the Dragon of Night,” a man replied. “He’ll devour us all in this darkness! I heard the dragon landed on the bridge in the middle of town. We’re all going to die.”

  “Can’t we escape? Can’t we flee with our little baobei?”

  “Flee where? We cannot see! I don’t know which way is which anymore. Just stay close to me. I’ll protect you both as long as I can.”

  The mothering smell, sweet and nourishing as cinnamon porridge, wafted from them. The father’s smell was sour with worry, yet it had a strong undercurrent of determination. Grass. Not even the worry and fear could overpower his vow to protect his wife and child. And then she and Liekou were gone, walking away from the scene.

  Bingmei wished she could struggle. She would have bitten, kicked, twisted, or wrenched her way to freedom. But Liekou hadn’t needed to tie her up. Her body was the bond.

  Liekou walked for a distance and then stepped over something. He did not speak to her, not that she could answer. Carrying her on his shoulder seemed inconsequential to him, although at one point he paused to shift her to his other shoulder.

  Crying and whimpering filled the air. She smelled the populace as they shivered with dread.

  Beneath the smell of fear, she smelled water, and soon she heard it lapping against the stone walls being constructed. Liekou wove around bodies too frightened to move. Their smells came and went. Everyone was terrified.

  She soon caught the scent of Echion, that hideous stench of a man who’d murdered uncountable numbers. They were going directly toward it.

  No, not him! Not him! Bingmei thought in despair.

  She remembered the vision she’d had of her mother and realized it was about to come to pass. She would die, and then one of her souls would be trapped in the Grave Kingdom forever. Well, if she had to die, it would be better if she did so before Echion made her revive his queen. She willed her spirit to shed her mortal body as it had done before. But she didn’t know how to forsake her body any more than she knew how to fly.

  Guilt pressed in on her as Liekou marched her closer to her nemesis. She’d escaped the dragon’s clutches so many times before, she’d hoped that she could avoid her fate through cunning and skill. Now that her dreaded capture was about to be realized, she wished she’d tried to fulf
ill the vision of Jidi Majia. It pressed on her mind like a dozen sharp daggers.

  Why had she been so selfish?

  Liekou shifted her body again, and then they were climbing one of the arched bridges. She could smell the fishy waters below, but that was inconsequential compared to the stench of Echion. Each step brought them closer together.

  Please, I’ll do anything! Bingmei thought in a silent scream. I’ll do it! I swear I’ll do it if you free me!

  Liekou slowed and then stopped. The terrible odor was choking her, but she couldn’t vomit. Not even her stomach would obey her.

  “You found her,” said Echion with a hint of malice in his tone.

  “I did, grand one,” said Liekou. “She was at the palace.”

  “And she brings me the Phoenix Blade on her back. This is a great moment. You are a valued servant, Liekou. You will get all that I promised you. And more.”

  “It is my honor to serve you, grand one,” said Liekou submissively.

  “Bingmei,” said Echion with a throb of exultation in his tone. “I know you cannot speak, but you can hear me.”

  She felt fingers pry beneath the wig, followed by pricks of pain as he wrenched it away. This was no dragon she was facing. The fingers felt like a man’s.

  “Ah, the stain of your hair brings back memories. How many times have we met like this? Do you remember any of those other lives? For thousands of years we’ve thwarted one another. The phoenix and the dragon.”

  His hand caressed the scabbard of the Phoenix Blade on her back. The touch of his hand would have made her shrink in revulsion, but she could not move. “It always comes back to you, but it won’t help you now. This is the moment of my victory. But I will not savor it here in this benighted kingdom. Come to my court at Fusang, Liekou. You will be present when I honor my queen.”

  “I will come with all haste, grand one,” said Liekou. “Should I bring the girl with me?”

  “I will bring the ice rose,” said Echion. “Go back to the palace and fetch Zhumu’s daughter.”

  “I will obey,” said Liekou. “Will the darkness last long enough for me to accomplish what you’ve asked of me?”

  “Long enough?” said Echion. “It will reign for three days before it vanishes like a dream. That is when my army will arrive to subdue Sihui.” There was a snort, a laugh she supposed, then he said, “I put the symbol of the eagle in this place in my last life. But even an eagle is blind in darkness.”

  There was another snort, this one more reptilian, and a ripple of scales. A foul stench filled the air, and Liekou set Bingmei down on the arch bridge. She smelled him back away, and she heard the creaking sinews of the dragon as it came closer.

  She felt a huge clawed hand grasp her helpless body and lift her effortlessly. And then the dragon let out a call, a primal cry of triumph and glee that was so loud she feared her ears were bleeding. Screams filled the air.

  The beast snarled with pleasure.

  Echion was proud of himself for causing such mayhem.

  The guilt ripped into both of her souls. She was going back to Fusang as a prisoner. Back to the glacier, if it was still even there. Back to the magical city that had survived for thousands of years.

  How could she have let this happen? Why hadn’t she tried to stop it?

  And the knowledge of her own failure made the anguish that much worse.

  Respect out of fear is never genuine. Reverence out of respect is never false.

  —Dawanjir proverb

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Fusang’s Rebirth

  She’d imagined the dragon would need to flap its wings to gain momentum, but no, some ineffable force moved the beast, as if it were a leaf blowing on an invisible river—its wings merely acted as guides to swerve and alter course.

  Once the dragon lifted her far enough above Sihui, she could see again. A great blot of inky darkness surrounded the whole city. Beyond it, she saw mountaintops. Seeing the world from beyond the domain of eagles filled her with wonder and dread. But the stench of the beast carrying her made her dizzy.

  In the distance, she saw the impossibly long Death Wall, a strand of graying stone built in and over mountain ridges. A vast, untamed forest lay beyond it. Even from this height, she saw no signs of civilization, just lakes and rivers and huge stretches of veined mountains extending as far as the eye could see.

  The dragon that carried her said nothing, but she felt the wisps of smoke that seemed to ooze from beneath its scales. Breathing in the fumes made her chest ache. It felt as if they’d flown for a very long time when suddenly the dragon banked and went lower. Her stomach came into her throat.

  The beast flew down into a huge canyon, angling carefully to avoid the sudden expanse of trees and rocky ridges. She saw bears ambling along the river, searching for their next meal. Huge bull moose lifted their heads and then fled for their lives as the dragon floated past. Then the great beast let out a piercing shriek that sent all the animals beneath it scattering in confusion and panic. A clicking, chuckling noise came from the beast’s long throat. It was pleased by the terror it caused.

  The canyon wormed its way through the heart of the mountains, and soon they were rising again, following the broken spine of rocks that jutted into the sky above them. They soared into the air, higher and higher, following the ridge until Bingmei saw a solitary mountain ahead. Sheathed in glacial snow, it rose above the rest. The dragon’s wings angled, and the push of the wind in her face grew stronger as the dragon ascended the mountain. Up they soared, up until it was so cold that not even trees could grow. Bingmei felt her lungs aching for air, but they went higher still. She shivered relentlessly, feeling her chest begging for relief. She tried to cry out to the dragon, but her body was still incapacitated, and the beast seemed intent on reaching the pinnacle.

  Bingmei felt a sense of frantic energy growing within her. She was suffocating, unable to breathe. She’d die before they ever reached Fusang.

  The dragon alighted on the top of the mountain, its huge clawed feet crunching into the snow, causing avalanches to fall on each side. She felt frost on her eyebrows and eyelashes.

  The dragon Echion set her down. The smoke coalesced around it and suddenly the dragon was a man again, his pale hair stroked by a breeze. The scales had shifted into ancient armor, elaborately crafted with little embellishments on the edges and across the pieces. Lifting his finger, Echion drew a sigil in the air. The image hung in the air, sparking with fire, and heat emanated from it. He drew another symbol, one with a different set of lines and angles, and suddenly she could breathe again. He then touched her back, tracing a symbol on her, and the dianxue paralysis ended. Free to move at last, she hunkered down near the twin symbols, emblems of his power and command. Warmth. Air. Such simple things. Yet a mortal would quickly die if deprived of them.

  She gazed up at Echion, smelling his rank scent as she stood, his eyes focused on the sprawling scene below them.

  “This whole world is my dominion,” he said, although he did not look at her as he spoke. “Every city. Every town. The mountains, including this one, are mine. Every river and stream. Each tree and each blade of grass. All of it belongs to me.” He gave her a sharp look. “Only to me. That I allow you ants to dwell here is a sign of my benevolence. If my laws are followed, I protect those beneath me. Disobey, and I bring ruin. I brought you here to show you your insignificance. If you tried to flee, you’d perish almost instantly. You are powerless against my strength.”

  He reeked of murder and ruthless depravity. But she could smell the lie just as strongly. He was lying to her. Why? It struck her that he didn’t know she could sense his dishonesty. Could she somehow use that to her advantage, or was all lost?

  “What will you do with me?” Bingmei asked through clenched teeth. She was still cold, but the heat from the burning sigil was working through the thin silk robe. The cold wouldn’t claim her this night.

  “I will use you as I always have, Phoenix. Our little g
ame. You will bring back Xisi, the queen of my empire. Only with her can my full powers be restored. Then I will continue my quest.”

  She stared at him, unsure of what he meant. Was he motivated by something other than murder and death? “What do you seek?”

  “Permanence,” he said, folding his arms across his armored chest. She saw the strange ring on his hand, like a spider that had enclosed its legs around his finger.

  She stared at him in confusion.

  “Every civilization I have founded has ultimately ended in death. Some have lasted a thousand years. Some perished after only three generations. Each one has eventually plunged toward chaos, self-destruction. I take what I have learned from each failed society and apply those lessons to the next incarnation. I seek to create a society that will never fail. One that will be permanent. One that will achieve perfect order.” He smirked. “The ants are always killing themselves. I seek to prevent it.”

  “But you killed thousands at Sajinau,” Bingmei said, gaping in disbelief.

  “I don’t need to justify myself to you or to anyone, Bingmei,” he said. “I have shown mercy before. Always there is rebellion. I have learned that order can more easily be achieved through cruelty. Cut the dead branch, and the tree will continue to grow. Just do not cut the roots. The widows mourn . . . for a season. Then all life begins anew. Their grandchildren will remember me as their great liberator, the source of their prosperity. I control the stories that are told, Bingmei. Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter what they think now, only what they will think.”

  His ruthlessness made her mind stagger. This man had ruled and conquered for thousands of years. He had countless ages of wisdom and knowledge to call upon.

  The only hope of defeating him had been her.

  And she’d fled from her fate. From the peak of the mountain, she could see the Death Wall far below. But she could not escape. It was too late for her to do what she should have done months ago.

  Anguish crushed her souls.

  They arrived in Fusang after the end of the day. She’d watched the sun set over the mountains, and then the sky had become swollen with stars. In less than a single day, they had crossed so much distance. No wonder Echion had beat them to Wangfujing after she’d awakened him. They had nothing that could move as quickly as his dragon form could fly.